The passage takes about 5 hours but is another uncomfortable ride with waves going in all directions.
We sail into Road Town to check the boat in and anchor in the bay just near the ferry dock. We are glared at by another Brit who obviously thinks we are too close so pull the anchor up and start again. Once secure, Mike goes off in the dinghy to Customs and Immigration, just getting back in time before a tropical squall hits the boat. I am for hanging on until the squall has passed, but Cap’n says I have to haul anchor and sends me out in the rain. What is a galley slave to do but obey?
We head over to Peter Island for the night and I change out of my soaked swimsuit. Just as we arrive in Deadman’s Bay, Peter Island itself disappears and the channel whips up into another frenzy. I hope it will pass over by the time I need to venture out to put the anchor down, but I very quickly realise that Sod’s Law is being applied to me from a great height – if I can get wet, I will get wet. I can’t help but notice that Mike is grinning at me from the dry of the cockpit. “Off you go” he says happily. My reply is less polite but I go anyway.
We are the only boat in the bay until nearly dark, when another large catamaran comes in to shelter for the night. We spend the evening watching a couple of episodes of the old comedy-drama, ‘Cold Feet’. I’d forgotten how funny it was.
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